Every Now and Then the Stars Align
by Dawnofthedusk
Summary: Soulmates AU. He knows about it, of course. It didn't happen to everyone but it did happen. He heard how it could mess a guy up, waking up with words written on him out of nowhere. Soulmates, they called it. Daryl called it a load of bullshit. Except now here he was with new ink on his arm and no other explanation as to how that pretty little writing got there. (Bethyl OneShot)


It isn't the first time he's woken up with a pounding head, on the floor of some shitty apartment belonging to a woman Merle got wrapped up with the night before.

It takes him a few attempts to swallow because his mouth is dryer than a fucking desert and he pushes himself onto his elbows with difficulty, wincing when the movement brings an ache to his temple. Running a hand over his face he heaves a sigh. That's when he sees it. On the inside of his wrist, in small, delicate writing – so girly that he just _knows_ Merle won't let it go when he catches sight of it.

'Those things'll kill you.'

_Shit._

He knows about it, of course. It didn't happen to everyone but it did happen. He heard how it could mess a guy up, waking up with words written on him out of nowhere. _Soulmates_, they called it. Daryl called it a load of bullshit. Except now here he was with new ink on his arm and no other explanation as to how that pretty little writing got there.

_Shit_, he thinks again.

It's hours later when they're tossing their few possessions into the bed of Daryl's beat up truck that Merle spots it. He grabs his younger brother's arm and pushes the sleeve of his leather jacket roughly up his forearm. Merle lets out a whistle and Daryl jerks free of his brother's grip.

"Oh ho ho, baby brother. You've gone it got yourself marked!" Merle steps back and crosses his arms.

"It don't mean shit." Daryl mutters, tugging the sleeve of his jacket further down his wrist.

"Means you've got yourself a pretty little lady just waitin' to ride off into the sunset with her _soulmate_." He says the word like an insult and Daryl can't help but flinch at the condescension. He didn't ask for this, he shouldn't be getting shit because of it.

He ignores Merle once they're on the road and pretends the he doesn't feel the words on his wrist burn like a branding.

* * *

Merle's found them work felling trees in some backwater town, full of church-goers and farmers. It's hard work and Daryl aches all over after three days of it but it's money – honest money, at that. When they call it a day at the end of the fourth, Merle heads to the local bar with a few of the other men. Daryl considers it but knows that all it will get him is a hangover, so instead he wanders down the mainstreet looking for someplace to eat. There's a diner on the edge of the town and he figures it'll do.

It has started to rain by the time he reaches it. Not heavy, more like a haze, but it clings and soaks him all the same. There's a small awning over the door and he ducks under it as he fishes through his pockets for his cigarettes and a lighter. He pays no mind when he hears a car door slam and footsteps running through the rain, his eyes are still on the ground and he is focused on his search. He finds his cigarettes and places one in his mouth as he continues to dig for a lighter. He sees a pair of boots come to a stop in his line of vision.

"Those things'll kill you." A quiet voice makes him tense. He almost drops the lighter he's found in his jacket in surprise. He doesn't look up, tells himself it's not because he's _scared_ to, more he just doesn't _want _to. If he looks up it's suddenly real.

Slowly, deliberately, he lights the cigarette between his teeth and says, "a lot of things'll kill you."

With a sigh he closes his eyes and counts to five. He raises his head and there she is.

She's cute and blonde and too damn _pure_ looking, standing in front of him clutching an umbrella. The universe definitely had a sick sense of humour. It was obviously a mistake. But she's staring at him with the bluest eyes he's ever seen and there's a pull somewhere deep in his chest.

"What?" He snaps, and stares right back at her. She nods towards him. He blinks at her, too long, damp hair falling into his eyes. It takes him a few seconds to realise he's blocking the door.

"You look like you could use some coffee." She smiles.

He clears his throat and takes a step to the side, clearing the door. She takes a few steps forward until she is under the awning. She pauses and looks at him, regarding him with a strange curiosity that makes him uncomfortable, until she turns and pushes through the door, heading inside.

_Definitely a mistake_, he thinks. But without thinking he tosses his cigarette to the ground, stepping on it heavily before he follows her in.

He slides awkwardly onto a stool at the counter and he watches as she pulls off her jacket, revealing a pair of skinny jeans and a yellow polo shirt that matches the colour scheme of the diner. She's tying an apron around her slim waist when she comes to a stop on the opposite side of the counter, facing him. His eyes haven't left her the entire time and he ducks his head, feeling the heat creep up his neck.

When she pushes a mug of coffee towards him and he can't help but look down at her wrist – of course he can't see if anything is written there because she's wearing so many damn bracelets.

"Can I get you somethin' to eat?" She asks. He orders the first thing he spots on the menu – it's some sort of chilli and turns out to be pretty damn good.

He tells himself it's the food he goes back for the next day.

* * *

He tells himself the place is handy and that soulmates aren't real. Before he knows it he's seen her almost every day for a week and a half. She talks to him, even introduced herself after the third day – her name is Beth and he doesn't know whether or it's relief or guilt he feels when she tells him.

"Daryl." He offers back in his rough, quiet voice because there's nothing else he can really give her.

He never really does talk back to her, just listens while she babbles. But no matter how bone tired he is after a hard day's labour, her bright smile has put him at ease every night he's seen her and against his better judgement he supposes he _does _feel drawn to her after all.

"I'm playing some music at the bar tomorrow night. D'you wanna come watch?" She asks him one day while she innocently slides his food towards him. He glances up at her to see how wide her eyes are and knows he can't refuse.

"Sure." He shrugs awkwardly. She beams at him before skipping off to serve someone else and he can't help the smile that tugs at his lips. He realises he must look like a fool and he drops his gaze to the plate in front of him.

* * *

Merle doesn't react when Daryl follows him and the other men to the bar when they're done for the day, only raises his eyebrows and keeps walking. Daryl is on edge and he can't help but drink his first beer too quickly. He's on his third by the time Beth is announced. The stage can't really be called that - it's barely more than a small raised platform - but there are appreciative hollers from the crowd when she slides on the stool behind the microphone with her guitar.

Her voice is soothing and he can feel his muscles ease with every note she sings. He takes in everything; from the way her thin fingers pluck gently at the strings, the piece of hair that falls in her eyes, how she closes her eyes to hit a particularly sweet note.

"Like what you see, little brother?" An elbow to the ribs and Merle's harsh voice brings Daryl back to reality. He shoves his brother in response. Merle just chuckles. "Would've thought she'd be a bit young for you. Don't normally go for jailbait."

"Fuck off, Merle."

"Why don't you go inspect that pretty little wrist of hers?" Daryl suppresses a wince at Merle's sarcastic tone. His brother knew him too well. As soon as Beth had stepped up behind the microphone, Daryl had taken in her appearance, zeroing in on the fact her trademark bracelets were absent. Daryl shoves his brother again and pushes his chair out, getting up to head towards the bar.

Daryl has several more drinks while Beth plays her set, but his mind is alert and he is focused. He tenses when she finishes and makes her way through the crowd towards him. His gaze flicks to Merle but his brother's attention is elsewhere.

"You came." She beams as she reaches him. He shrugs as if it isn't a big deal – the truth is he's never felt like this in his life and he's terrified. Because his palms are slick with sweat, and he can feel his heart thundering and, Jesus, his mouth has even gone dry.

"You wanna dance?" Beth arches an eyebrow at him and he almost laughs at her hopeful tone.

"I don't dance." He takes a swing of his beer and shoots her a sideways glance.

"A drink then." Beth rolls her eyes and doesn't wait for him to answer, ordering him another beer and a shot of tequila. He raises his eyebrows at that and she notices, sending a devious smile his way.

A few more drinks and at least three shots later, Daryl feels brave. When Beth reaches across the bar to collect her change, he wraps a hand around her wrist and pulls it towards him.

In an instant he feels sick and wants nothing more than to bolt out the door.

There's nothing.

Beth doesn't have a mark like his and now he knows it.

Daryl drops her wrist and she eyes him curiously. He pushes away from the bar abruptly and tells her, "I gotta go."

"Wait, Daryl…" Beth grabs his arm before he can take another step. His gaze falls to where her hand rests on his worn leather jacket. He chews the inside of his lip and forces himself to meet her eyes. Those damn doe eyes that don't look the least bit hazy even after all those drinks.

"Walk me home?"

All he can do is nod.

* * *

They walk in silence. Beth carries her guitar case and sneaks glances at Daryl. By the set of his shoulders and the way he is keeping his distance, Beth knows he's uncomfortable and he's glad she doesn't force him to make conversation.

It seems like no time at all until they're standing at the door to her building and Daryl's throat feels tight. His wrist itches like a bitch but he knows it's in his head.

He looks down at Beth and she's watching him with those careful, blue eyes, and god damn it, he wants to kiss her till he can't breathe.

"G'Night." Beth's voice is soft and she makes no move towards the door. If anything she leans closer to him, but he can't be certain (not sure if he wants to be).

She looks disappointed when he clears his throat and steps away from her. He feels a knot of guilt settle in his stomach and doesn't know if it's because she doesn't have a mark or if it's the look on her face. His stomach tightens when her gaze locks with his and that's the exact moment he realises he's in too deep.

"Night." It takes a few tries and it is all he can manage before he leaves her there in the doorway, and heads off down the street.

Later, when he's lying in bed, he runs his thumb across the small words on his wrist. He can't help but imagine a small, delicate hand writing those words on there. Not for the first time he wonders what its twin says, written on someone's wrist in his own messy scrawl. If it's not Beth, then who the hell could it be? She makes him nervous and calm all at once and he's never felt so drawn to another person before her.

Yes, she had spoken the words that marked his skin, but if she was 'the one' she would have had a mark of her own. And he knew for definite now that she didn't; there was nothing on her skin to mark her as his, no twin to the ink he had been so convinced made him hers. Because he realises now, lying in the dark, his thumb tracing the small words on his wrist, he realises that he'd allowed himself to hope for it. And that thought hits him like a punch in the gut. He can't help but feel that strange pull towards Beth – a pull he was convinced was down to the idea that she was inked at the wrist like he was. Now it seems the pull was entirely down to her.

Daryl knows that if they carry on like they have been, it's only going to confuse things. He doesn't want to hurt Beth if, by some universal miracle, his 'one' does turn up. Then again, he's not sure there even _is_ anything between him and Beth or if he's just imagining it. Hell, he doesn't even know if he's going to be in town much longer anyway. He thinks it might be easier to cut and run before 'anything' does happen.

With a grunt he shakes his head, hoping to clear his mind of the whole business and get some sleep.

But sleep doesn't come and he is still left thinking about the way her face fell when he walked away from her.

* * *

He goes to hers with every intention of saying goodbye and ending things – whatever it is they're doing. He's going to tell her everything from start to finish about why a redneck son of bitch like him wasted so much of her time. He's going to show her the mark on his wrist by way of explanation and then he plans to high tail it out of that town that suddenly feels too small.

Beth is surprised to find him at her door and when she shows him in she's flitting about the room, putting on lights and shuffling magazines into piles. He's reminded of a hummingbird and it unnerves him – why is he comparing her to a bird? Hell, why was he comparing her to anything? He's come to get her out of his head.

"D'you want somethin' to eat?" She asks him suddenly and he realises that she's nervous. She's practically vibrating in front of him.

"I gotta talk to you." He tells her quietly, hands curled into fists in the pockets of his worn jeans. She stills and her eyes widen.

"Figured you'd be needin' to soon."

He doesn't understand what she means but when his gaze darts up from the floor to meet hers she looks eerily calm all of a sudden. He opens his mouth to respond but any words he was thinking of saying die on his lips because she takes a step towards him, then another.

"Before you do, I just…I wanna try somethin'." She whispers. She's so close she has to tilt her head up to meet his gaze. Daryl swallows. And then she's on her toes and pressing her lips to his, one hand curled against his chest, the other sliding behind his neck. Her fingers glide through the hair at the nape of his neck and it makes him shiver. Without thinking his hands are on her waist, holding her against him. His mouth is against hers, hot and fierce. It suddenly it doesn't matter that she isn't the one the universe picked out for him, it doesn't matter that it's all sorts of wrong for a girl like her to get involved with a guy like him. All he wants is to kiss her and hold her, even if it is just this once.

"How'd you know?" She asks, breathless as he moves to kiss her neck.

He pulls back sharply. His brows knit together in confusion as she looks up at him, eyes wide, waiting for his answer, still fighting to catch her breath.

"Know what?" His voice is rougher than usual. With a small smile she reaches down, to where his hand is gripping her and holds his arm up, small fingers curled just under his mark.

Daryl shakes his head. "Don't matter."

It's her turn to look confused.

"You ain't got one, I know." He shakes his head and pulls his arm slowly from her gentle grip, letting his hand slide back around her. "It don't matter. It's you and me. That's all."

"Daryl, I…" She blinks up at him. Her blue eyes wide and full of wonder. Without another word she looks down and lifts the hem of her shirt. His hands fall away from her and he takes a step back, opening his mouth to ask what she's doing when he sees it. Right above her hip bone, in his own messy scrawl: 'A lot of things'll kill you.'

She raises her eyes to meet his and all he can do is blink at her.

"First time I saw you I knew." She tells him in a small, shy voice.

"Words are a give away." He's suddenly nervous and he doesn't know why.

"No." She shakes her head. "I didn't see your wrist 'til after." She closes the distance between them and wraps her arms around him, pressing her face to his chest.

"I didn't know." Daryl confesses. He hesitates before wrapping his arms around her shoulders, returning her embrace. "Thought you didn't have one."

"There was just…somethin'…" Beth pulls away just enough to look up at him. "Didn't know what it was but I knew I wanted to talk to you." Daryl nods, holding her gaze. Unconsciously his hand drifts down and his thumb brushes across the spot she showed him, where his words have marked her soft skin.

"Somethin', alright…" he mutters.

"I thought about telling you but I didn't want to scare you off with all that…_fate_ and everything. Thought you were here to call me out." She confesses, toying with a button in his shirt.

"So you've known all along?"

She grins. "Ever since I got you coffee."

"And you've just been leadin' me a merry dance since?" Daryl can't find it in himself to be truly annoyed.

"Like I said, I didn't want to scare you off." And then her smile is gone, replaced by something much more serious. "I didn't just want it to be a given that we'd see the marks and just…have to go with it. I wanted to want you and I wanted you to want me back."

His grip tightens on her hips to demonstrate just how much he wants her. He nods, unable to keep his eyes focused on hers. Instead his gaze drops to her lips where a smile tugs at the corner. It doesn't matter if it's fate or destiny that brought him into the arms of the woman in front of him, and when she reaches up to kiss him again he doesn't rightly care.

* * *

**A.N: Okay so I'm super nervous about posting this. It's the first writing I've done in a **_**long**_** time that hasn't been for uni, and it's my first time writing for a new fandom (which is always a terrifying prospect for me). But this ship has completely taken over my life and this idea would not go away (because every fandom needs at **_**least**_** one soulmate au, am I right?)**

**Anyway, I hope it wasn't too awful, and please do let me know what you thought of it!**


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